


by your side (day and night)

by talkingtoangels



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brief Sexual Mention, First Kiss, Living Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7548544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtoangels/pseuds/talkingtoangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how much their relationship has progressed over the past few months, Matsukawa still can’t help but notice how there seems to be some kind of switch that’s flicked on whenever the sun sets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	by your side (day and night)

**Author's Note:**

> Team Matsuhana's Main Round 1 SASO 2016 Entry!!!
> 
> words by; safra, airblends, talking_to_angels  
> art by; toffeepotatoes, respectableflourish

Let it be known that Hanamaki Takahiro is _not_ a morning person.

Sure, Matsukawa has the slow smile and the hooded eyes and is pretty much the human embodiment of a sloth (‘ _Look_ , _you even have the same eyebrows, Mattsun— Ouch! Don’t_ kick _me! You’re worse than Iwa-chan, you know?_ ’), but it’s _Hanamaki_ who needs at least two hours to properly shake off last nights sleep and become an actual functional human being.

Matsukawa watches, an amused smile tugging at his lips, as Hanamaki shuffles slowly - _too_ slowly, considering how late they are - down the pathway, not even bothering to stifle his yawn as he mumbles out a tired ‘ _g’morning_ ’ once he reaches the foot of the pathway.

He raises a brow, taking in Hanamaki’s sleep-ruffled hair, his untucked shirt and uneven tie, and the way his blazer slides off one shoulder, like he’d grabbed it five seconds before leaving the house and didn’t have the chance to check his reflection.

“You look awful,” Matsukawa lies, falling into step with him as they make their way down the road. They’re late for school - _stupidly_ late, because _someone_ likes to hit snooze at least four times before rolling out of bed - but neither of them make any move to quicken the pace.

Hanamaki snorts, rolling his eyes a little as he bumps his shoulder against Matsukawa’s, shoving him gently into a bush as they pass. “You know, with compliments like those, you’re going to make someone _very_ happy one day _,_ ” Hanamaki says sarcastically, running a tired hand through his hair in an attempt to fix the state it’s in.

Matsukawa hums in reply, content to simply observe and take in _everything_ that is Hanamaki Takahiro in the mornings.

He’s not sure when this became one of his favourite hobbies, nudging even _volleyball_ out of the way for the top spot, but it is.

He likes watching Hanamaki slowly wake up; likes hearing his sleep ridden voice - deeper than usual, likes watching Hanamaki absentmindedly card his hand through his hair until it stops resembling a light pink birds nest, likes being able to see the way his eyes brighten - unnoticeable to everyone but him - as the day goes on, likes noticing the way his smiles turn from slow and barely there, to so _wide_ it dominates most of his face and makes Matsukawa’s heart do a funny _ba-dump, ba-dump_ , whenever he catches sight of it.

Hanamaki Takahiro may not be a morning person but, in Matsukawa Issei’s humble opinion, mornings are _great_.

 

 

Matsukawa’s not entirely sure when Hanamaki’s home becomes _his_ second home, he just knows that it _is_.

He’s stepped through the entrance and mumbled a quiet ‘ _sorry for intruding_ ’ more times than he can count over the last three years and, somewhere along the way, it’s become second nature for him to follow Hanamaki home after school and spend hours lounging in his bedroom, flicking through the latest issue of _Shonen Jump_ or playing Mario Kart or attempting to do their homework or—

Or, _napping_.

Matsukawa blinks up at the ceiling, eyes slowly adjusting to the murky darkness of Hanamaki’s bedroom. He glances over at his phone on the bedside table and winces when he spots the time, followed by several notifications letting him know he’s missed several calls from his mother.

He sighs and moves to roll out of bed, pausing only when Hanamaki stirs beside him. Matsukawa’s heart does that funny _ba-dump, ba-dump_ thing again when Hanamaki stretches out to tug at Matsukawa’s shirt, effectively pulling him closer.

“ _Mmmng,_ ” Hanamaki mumbles in his sleep, brows puckering into a frown when Matsukawa gently tries to extract himself from his grasp.

Mornings are great but, Matsukawa thinks as he watches Hanamaki wrap his arms around the nearest pillow in lieu of Matsukawa’s body. Mornings are _great_ , but nights like this where they get to lie side by side and he gets to watch the way Hanamaki _constantly_ stirs in his sleep, reaching out for the nearest source of warmth, or take in the way it feels when Hanamaki’s long arms subconsciously wrap around his waist and pull him close, or, _or_ —

“ _Mattsun_?” Hanamaki murmurs, still sleeping as he nuzzles the pillow in his arms gently.

Mornings are great, but nights like _this_ are pretty great too.

 

 

“Ah, Issei-kun,” Hanamaki’s mother says with a smile when she passes him in the corridor, ten minutes later. “Where—” She pauses, looking him up and down with a frown. “Where are you _going_?”

Matsukawa frowns, tugging his blazer on properly so he can look at least somewhat presentable. “Home?”

“It’s nearly _midnight_ ,” she laughs, swatting at Matsukawa’s shoulder. (Well, she tries, but she’s a good deal shorter than him and just about manages to poke him in the stomach.) “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ah. But, my pare—”

“I’ve already spoken to your mother,” she says dismissively, shoving him gently backwards towards Hanamaki’s bedroom. “She knows where you are, don’t worry. But make sure to _call_ her next time before you two fall asleep, alright?”

Matsukawa feels his cheeks redden slightly at the thought of Hanamaki’s mother poking her head through the bedroom door to find them lying cuddled in bed together. “If...if you’re sure?”

“ _Issei-kun_ ,” she sighs. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. Now, _shoo_. You have school in the morning.”

She bids him goodnight and Matsukawa makes his way back into Hanamaki’s bedroom, taking care to close the door firmly shut behind him, before he shuffles over towards Hanamaki’s bed.

He’s still sleeping - wryly, Matsukawa thinks Hanamaki could probably sleep through the apocalypse - but he stirs slightly when Matsukawa slides back under the sheets.

_“Mattsun?”_

Matsukawa hums, letting an easy smile spread over his face when Hanamaki wraps his arms around him and pulls him tightly against him.

It’s difficult picking a time of day he enjoys most, not when he gets to spend _all_ of them with Hanamaki by his side.

 

* * *

 

“Mattsun. Mattsun! Hey, anybody home?”

Matsukawa lifts his head, tearing his eyes away from his phone screen. He squints against the bright light falling through the cafeteria window. “What?”

Oikawa’s standing next to him, a little too close for comfort as he leans into his space. “I said,” he grouses, “what could be so important that Mattsun’d rather be texting someone else than take part in a conversation with my humble self?”

Iwaizumi appears by Oikawa’s side, laden with a tray full of food stacked up to his nose. “Your humble self can scoot over so we all fit in here,” he says as he hipchecks Oikawa into the booth with ease. Matsukawa rearranges his legs under the table to make room, and then they’re all seated.

“Where’s Makki?” Oikawa asks, picking food off Iwaizumi’s tray and laying it out on the table. When Iwaizumi doesn’t swat his hand away, it dawns on Matsukawa that he’d gotten food for the both of them. It makes him feel a little out of place.

“Student counseling,” he answers, shrugging. “Something about his internship probably.” He doesn’t mention the fact that they were supposed to grab lunch together and that Hanamaki had canceled on him last minute. There’s no reason for him to be upset about it but he’s still a little bitter. He hasn’t seen him since morning, which is a fairly long period of time considering they’re used to spending every waking minute with each other.

Oikawa’s eyes linger on Matsukawa while he pops a dumpling in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Mattsun’s moping,” he discerns, reaching across the table to pinch some of Matsukawa’s leftover vegetables. His comment warrants a sidelong glance from Iwaizumi, and Matsukawa wishes his friend wasn’t so damn perceptive. He doesn’t even deny it, but he doesn’t acknowledge it either.

Matsukawa shoves his peas from one side of his plate to the other, avoiding eye contact.

“What’s with the long face?” Iwaizumi asks.

“His other half is missing, isn’t that obvious?” Oikawa chirps.

“Why don’t you talk to _your_ other half and let a man text in peace?” Matsukawa suggests, satisfied with the squeak Oikawa lets out, his mouth set in a childish pout. He does stick to Iwaizumi as a conversation partner for now though, even if that doesn’t have to mean anything.

Matsukawa glances back at his phone, surprised to find another message from Hanamaki so soon after he told him he was stuck in student counseling.

**ugh bail me out of here im dying**

_why though_

**prof is being a pain in the ass, dont ask just help me**

_lmfao okay gimme a sec_

Matsukawa pockets his phone and gets up, immediately drawing his friends’ attention to him. “Hanamaki needs my help,” he explains to put an end to the stream of wordless questions pouring from Oikawa’s eyes, and even though they both nod he can feel them staring holes into him as he weaves his way through the cafeteria.

He’ll just have to resort to the good old fake emergency call for this one.

 

 

Once Hanamaki exits his professor’s office, hair ruffled and forehead sweaty, he heaves a sigh of relief, giving Matsukawa a loose, one-armed hug. “Thanks, man.”

This isn’t their usual tight, skin-warming embrace. It’s their ‘ _we’re-in-public_ ’ hug, and it’s the sum of all things Matsukawa doesn’t want.

His heart sinks when Hanamaki tells him he doesn’t have time to hang out at all, because he’s got stuff to deal with.

Matsukawa tries not to notice how absent Hanamaki seems. He tries not to let it eat away at him, tries to swallow his hurt, because he misses him and it hasn’t even been a day.

He fails.

 

 

Matsukawa’s half asleep in his dorm room when he’s startled by a knock on his door. He isn’t fazed by this though, in fact warmth surges through him; pleasant anticipation.

“It’s unlocked,” he calls, rubbing his eyes.

Hanamaki doesn’t bother to switch on the light—he doesn’t have to; he knows this room as well as his own. Socked feet make their way across the room, and the mattress dips as he climbs into Matsukawa’s bed like he’s been doing every other night since they started college. There are no boundaries here: Hanamaki presses himself against Matsukawa, heavy and warm and addictive. Matsukawa’s heart should be used to this, but it jumps all the same when he turns around to fold himself around his friend, his friend who he’s been yearning to kiss since their highschool years.

Being this close to him hurts, but it’s in a way he can deal with most of the time. He doesn’t know if he can deal tonight.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his lips brushing Hanamaki’s forehead.

“Hey.” Hanamaki’s arm winds around Matsukawa’s waist, pulling him closer. _God_ , he’s going to do something stupid at this rate.

“Got everything sorted?”

“Mh.”

Matsukawa wishes he could see Hanamaki’s face, but in the dark all he can do is _feel_. Feel the rise and fall of his chest, and the steady beat of his heart.

“It’s funny, isn’t it,” he whispers, “with how often you stay at my place, we should just room together next semester.”

Silence falls, and for a while neither of them utters a word. There’s a certain kind of tension in the air between them; something vital has obviously been left unsaid. Matsukawa’s sure Hanamaki’s feeling it too.

“Maybe that’s not a good idea,” Hanamaki says quietly, his hold on Matsukawa weakening.

Matsukawa’s heart stops. “Why not?”

“I don’t think I can live with you and not…” Hanamaki trails off, his fingers sliding up Matsukawa’s arm until they reach his cheek.

“Not…?” Matsukawa’s throat tightens.

Hanamaki’s hand slides around to the back of his neck, bringing their faces together, making their noses bump gently. “ _This_ ,” Hanamaki breathes, and Matsukawa can taste him on his tongue, “I want more than this.”

If Matsukawa’s heart was speeding before, it definitely ran off the road just now. His breath hitches as he inhales Hanamaki’s scent, undiluted and absolutely overwhelming, and right there, something clicks in his head. All the mixed signals, the lingering touches, the yearning—it was _mutual_.

“Hanamaki Takahiro,” he whispers, “if you want it, go ahead and take it.”

He feels Hanamaki inhale sharply, his heartbeat out of control. There are no words after this, just skin and lips, and the world stops spinning, just for the night.

Hanamaki kisses him, drawing him impossibly closer with every push and pull, setting the pace for a new chapter of their lives.

They both know in an instant that living together is a decision they should’ve made ages ago.

 

* * *

 

Matsukawa swings the door open without knocking.

He likes not having to knock on Hanamaki’s door anymore, even makes a point of mentioning it every once in a while. Which is because it’s _their_ door now; _their_ shared room, _their_ home for the time being.

It’s a little bit what he hopes their future to look like, sans dirty laundry and breadcrumbs scattered over the floor beneath their beds. _Beds_ in the plural being the keyword here, because the gap between the two single beds they’d pushed together? It’s mildly infuriating.

“Hiro, you home?” Matsukawa calls, peering around the corner to a heap of biology textbooks piled high on their beds. The pile stirs, and Hanamaki emerges, his hair sticking up in weird places and dark rings under his eyes.

“You look like shit,” Matsukawa says, dropping his bag and walking over to lean down and kiss his boyfriend hello.

“Thanks,” Hanamaki mumbles against his lips, clearly suppressing a yawn. “I’ve been working all day though, and what were you doing? Having fun?”

Matsukawa laughs. “If ‘getting dragged around town all day by Oikawa in search for the perfect anniversary gift’ translates to ‘having fun’, then yes.”

“Oh my god. Wanna come study with me?” Hanamaki offers, patting the blankets by his side. “Anything’s more fun than window shopping with Japan’s Next Top Model, right?”

Matsukawa snorts as he gets on the bed with Hanamaki, wrapping his arms around him and pressing another kiss against his neck. “How’s the studying been going?”

“Well, what’s it look like to you?” Hanamaki says, twisting around to face Matsukawa. From this up close his eyebags are even more prominent, but so is the silvery gray of his eyes.

“Beautiful,” Matsukawa replies, a smile forming on his lips as he watches Hanamaki’s cheeks color, and he gives a choked laugh when Hanamaki punches him with enough force to make him fall over. Within seconds, Hanamaki’s on top of him, pinning him to the bed by his wrists. His blush has spread to his ears and neck—it makes Matsukawa want to cover him in kisses. “You spend too much time with Iwaizumi,” he laughs, “he’s rubbing off on you.”

“Oh shut up,” Hanamaki says, and he makes sure by covering his mouth with his own, releasing Matsukawa’s wrists to slide his hands into his hair, lightly tugging on the curly strands. He sighs softly, his movements slow and teasing. Matsukawa knows where this is going, but he can’t ignore the fact that Hanamaki’s exam is in two days. As much as he wants to kick his books off the bed to make better use of it, he pulls back from the kiss.

“Not so fast,” he says, amused at the disappointment in Hanamaki’s eyes. “This isn’t a _no_ , Hiro, this is a _later_. You need to finish studying first.” 

Hanamaki groans, rolling off of him. “Why did you have to be the responsible one?” he laments, kicking his feet up in defeat. Still, he sits up and pulls his notebook back into his lap and starts rereading his notes.

 

 

No matter how much their relationship has progressed over the past few months, Matsukawa still can’t help but notice how there seems to be some kind of switch that’s flicked on whenever the sun sets.

While the two of them exercise a modest amount of PDA by day, it doesn’t even compare to what their nights are like, even the ones spent just sleeping side by side. What’s changed is that he doesn’t mind now—differences don’t have to be negative.

The beds creak quietly (damn these cheap ass dorm beds) when Matsukawa pulls Hanamaki on top of him after lights out, stifling his moan with a kiss on the mouth. Instantly, Hanamaki’s hands start working their way under Matsukawa’s shirt while he kisses his lips, his cheek, his neck down to his collarbone, breath fanning out over sensitive skin. Matsukawa shivers, his palms pressed flat against Hanamaki’s back, steadily sliding south. _God_ , they both deserve this.

Once all of their clothes have joined the ever growing pile beneath the bed and they’re all skin to skin, there’s no holding back.

“I love you,” Matsukawa murmurs into Hanamaki’s shoulder, feeling him move around him, each twitch of his hips, each breathless moan that leaves his lips while he’s holding him close under the cover of their blankets. He feels Hanamaki stutter in his movements.

“What was that?” Hanamaki gasps, making Matsukawa laugh. He totally heard him the first time.

“I love you,” he repeats, louder this time, his voice raspy with both arousal and adoration.

Even in the dark he knows Hanamaki’s smiling as he repeats those words back to him, because he’s kissing them right into his mouth with everything he’s got, and Matsukawa thinks he has never been this happy before.

 

* * *

 

 

Matsukawa wakes to an empty bed. Shutting off his alarm, he heads out into the kitchen still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A plate is on the kitchen table, a piece of toast and a fried egg. Matsukawa lets out a breath in amusement. Knowing Hanamaki, he probably woke up with only minutes to spare but still cooked breakfast for two. Well, if toast and a fried egg can count as cooking.

Not to mention, Hanamaki burns just about everything he puts on the stove.

A closer glance at the egg attests to this fact - the edges are crispy and a little blackened. Matsukawa eats every bite on the plate.

He makes himself a cup of coffee and sips at it from the kitchen table after he’s cleaned it off.

He’s out the door not 15 minutes later, one hand still fixing his lopsided tie.

 

 

“Hey, Matsukawa! Do you— Were you on your phone again?” his coworker, Fukumoto asks, voice amused and slightly exasperated.

“Uh— nope.” Matsukawa quickly slides his phone out of sight.

Fukumoto rolls his eyes. “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see. You’re lucky that the boss isn’t here right now, or you’d be in so much shit.”

“Hey, it’s break. I’m not a slacker.”

Kurata sticks her head above the wall between their cubicles. “I bet he was texting his boyfriend again.”

Matsukawa smiles sheepishly. “You got me.”

Fukumoto snorts. “When is Matsukawa not texting his boyfriend during break?”

Kurata grins. “That’s just your single, salty ass talking.”

Matsukawa laughs along with her, and Fukumoto shoots them both a glare.

“ _Anyway_ , Matsukawa, I’m going out for lunch, want to come?” Kurata makes an offended-sounding noise at this, and Fukumoto makes a show out of rolling his eyes. “I guess you’re invited too.”

She cheers, and Matsukawa answers, “Why not?”

 

 

They go to a small café on the corner of their office building. Matsukawa sees cream puffs in the display shelf and smiles. He takes out his phone and snaps a picture before sending it to Hanamaki.

He knows Hanamaki won’t see it for a while, but it doesn’t stop him from anticipating his reply.

“Matsukawa’s daydreaming about his boyfriend again,” Kurata drawls as they head back with their food.

“You guys are just jealous,” Matsukawa says.

“Of course, we’re jealous! You get to do fun couple stuff after work and on weekends, while we just get to watch Netflix and eat ice cream by ourselves. Right, Fukumoto?” Kurata nudges Fukumoto, who ignores her.

Matsukawa lets out a low chuckle at that, and his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out to see a photo from Hanamaki in response to the photo that he’d sent earlier.

It’s a selfie of him in the staff’s cafeteria at his research lab, and Matsukawa can see the tray on the table that he assumes is his boyfriend’s lunch for the day. It doesn’t look appetizing.

Matsukawa laughs, before moving to type a reply.

 

 

When he gets out from work, he checks his phone to see that Hanamaki’s sent him more photos in the time that he’s been working. Several of them are more selfies, but a couple are photos of his research work in his lab, all with terrible puns as captions.

Shaking his head, Matsukawa replies: _doesn’t ur head researcher have some sort of rule about phones in the lab?_

Passing by the café that he’d gone to for lunch earlier with Kurata and Fukumoto, Matsukawa stops.

By the time he receives a reply, he has a box of cream puffs in hand and is on the subway home.

_shh what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. i’ll b home by 7_

Matsukawa replies with an affirmative before pocketing his phone. The rest of the train ride is uneventful.

When he gets home, the apartment is empty. It’s not seven yet.

But it couldn't have been long before it is, because Matsukawa hears the door open and close and Hanamaki’s “I’m home,” before he’s even had time to change out of his office clothes.

“Welcome home,” he calls back.

He’s opening their closet, about to take out clothes to change into when he feels Hanamaki press his face into the space between his shoulder blades. Matsukawa smiles and turns around.

“Hey,” he says. Hanamaki grins back before kissing him.

“You look like a mess,” Hanamaki says when they part. “Did you really go to work looking like this? Your tie’s not even done properly. I bet everyone on your floor knows when I’m not here in the morning to do your tie for you.”

“So what if they do?” Matsukawa shoots back, before going back to changing.

Hanamaki laughs.

“I got you cream puffs,” Matsukawa says once they’re in the kitchen.

Hanamaki’s eyes light up. “You’re the best, Issei. I knew there was some goodness in you after all.”

“Does that ‘goodness’ extend to making our dinner?”

“Of course, it does. Do you want to get food poisoning?”

“And yet you still made me breakfast this morning. Do you have something you need to confess?”

Hanamaki raises his hands in defeat. “You caught me. I’ve been after your kidneys this whole time. After you’re dead, I can finally sell them to the black market and become a millionaire.”

They both burst into a bout of laughter so hard Matsukawa had to brace himself on the counter.

They have a dinner of soba, after which they retire to the couch with the cream puffs and some tea.

“I feel old, we always drink tea after dinner now, like some old married couple,” Hanamaki says. His legs are in Matsukawa’s lap, the box of cream puffs in his arms.

“You’re only as old as you think you are, Hiro,” Matsukawa teases before opening his mouth wide, and Hanamaki feeds him a cream puff.

Hanamaki hums around his own mouthful. “Wanna hear a story about this intern and a petri dish?”

Twining their fingers together, Matsukawa says, “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! we all really hope you enjoyed it <3


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